The Camera
by Ashlynn75
Summary: Sebastian Moran hated to see this ruthless man so, pathetic, so heartbroken. Especially on his birthday. Molly Hooper and that camera had done some serious damage to him. My first Molliarty fic...


**The Camera**

Jim Moriarty _never_ opened up to anyone. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his past or that it was so horrible that he had nightmares thinking about it, it was just that, he didn't think that anyone was _worthy_ of knowing it. The only person who came as close as possible to know anything personal about him, was Sebastian Moran, even though he only knew his birthday, but still, he considered it a great achievement, that someone like _Jim Moriarty,_ trusted him, thought that he was worth something. Him, and of course, as much as he loathed to admit, the second person who came so, _so_ close to breaking the walls, he had built with _such_ hard work, patience and humility, and that they almost _cracked,_ was Molly Hooper.

Ah, _Molly Hooper,_ that wonderfully awkward, beautifully shy, gorgeous, _gorgeous_ Molly Hooper.

Never in a million years had Jim Moriarty thought someone could get so close to him that he almost, _almost_ became _vulnerable,_ around them.

He threw the glass of scotch on the wall, breaking it in a million pieces.

"I hate scotch." he murmured, as he poured himself another drink, scotch on the rocks with a twist, it was the drink she ordered the night they went out to dinner. It was her favourite.

As he sat down, on his chair, in his office, he replayed that night in his mind.

 _Jim Moriarty or rather 'Jim from IT' the character he was playing right now, was sitting on the couch of Molly Hooper's flat, with Molly Hooper's head on his chest, playing with her hair, with his arm around her waist, which seemed like something Jim for IT would do._

 _They were watching that pathetic Glee show she was taking about._

 _God, he was annoyed with this stupid act. This is why he was never interested in women. They were so predictable._

 _But then, Molly Hooper did something incredibly surprising._

 _Switching off the TV she turned to him and asked him, "Tell me something, dangerous, Jim,"_

 _Jerking his head back, with a truly shocking expression on his face he said, "Only if you tell me something dangerous first, Molly"_

" _Oh, all right then." She said as the both sat up straight._

" _I am, actually the daughter of an American politician, who faked her own death, made it look like a murder, and then framed her father for it. Because, he killed his wife, and made it look like and accident." She said with a challenging look on her face._

" _Well, I am a consulting criminal. The Napoleon of crime, who using you, just to get to Sherlock Holmes." He said with a prideful smile on her face._

" _Ha Ha..! At least mine sounds realistic."_

" _Excuse me? Consulting criminals exist, all right."_

" _Name one."_

" _Jim….Janssen"_

" _Jim... Janssen? Who the hell is that...?" she said, laughing._

" _Hey! It's Dutch!" He argued, but God! He loved arguing with her..! It was new, so exiting and it made him feel so, light and funny and happy..? That's weird, he only felt happy with when he had someone murdered, or when the pay check came._

" _Dutch like what, Famke Janssen...?" she said, still laughing._

" _Yeah! Like Famke Janssen." He said._

" _Okay, fine! Jim Janssen it is..!" She said._

" _Do you want have a beer..? She said._

" _Uh, sure." He said._

 _As she got up from the couch, to her kitchen, he noticed her again and deduced her again. She wore a black sweater with big outlined hearts of different colours, with a black skirt plus black shoes and also, she wore a soft, pink scarf with it and she had gotten a manicure. Conclusion, she had wanted to look really good for a simple brunch date with a man she liked and who liked her back, and showed it in his actions. Also, she was awkward when she asked him if he wanted to come inside her apartment, conclusion, he was the first guy she had ever invited him to her apartment._

" _Here's your beer," she said as she handed him the bottle._

" _So, Jim from IT, there this question, I have been meaning to ask you, tell me, does one ever want grow up to be an IT worker?" she asked as she sat down beside him._

" _I don't know, Molly from pathology. Does one ever want to grow up to be a pathologist..?" he asked her in return._

" _Will you ever answer my questions, without asking them in return..?" she said smiling._

" _It's my game, I like it." And he did._

" _Pianist."_

" _What?"_

" _When I was growing up, I had always wanted to become a pianist. We had a piano in our house, and my mum taught me how to play it. And every time I was sad or angry or bored or happy, I used to play it." She said._

" _And, I can see why it's true." He said, taking her hand._

" _How come?"_

" _These fingers," he said, as he played with her finger, in between his own. "They're not a pathologist. They're not of a person who cut up dead bodies all day. They're those of a pianist. A person, who loves the feeling of cool, black and white keys against her fingertips."_

" _And you? What did you truly wanted to be when you were a child?" she asked again, her still firmly holding his._

" _Photographer."_

" _What?"_

" _Photographer. I had always wanted to become a photographer. I had this classic 80s Polaroid camera which I had taken (stolen) from this kid at school. And I took it everywhere with me. And I clicked photos of absolutely random things. A cat passing by, an old man reading the paper. Even an electricity pole." He said laughing._

" _Thank God you dropped it. Otherwise, you would've sitting under that very same pole right now."_

" _My father actually said the same thing when I told him that. But I had enjoyed it." And he did enjoy it, very much. But then his father gave a nice beating on the back and threw the camera in the lake. He never found it._

" _I think, I still might have those couple of photos. Stashed up in a shoe box, behind my closet or under my bed" he said._

" _Well, I'd love to see them someday." She said, as she put her free hand around his neck, pulling him towards her a little._

 _They looked deep into each other's eyes and leaned in slowly, and then their lips touched. Simply, cautiously. They started off slowly, passionately. But soon it turned deep, very deep and heated. It was filled with sparks and fireworks of excitement. It was the type of kiss bride and grooms have on their weddings. It was the types of kiss new mums and dads have when their child is born._

 _And the rest, you can figure out yourself…_

But it was what happened _after_ that night which changed Jim Moriarty's life forever. It was the day he was finally going to relive himself to Sherlock _._

But, little did he know, that Little Miss Hooper had a surprise for him too…

 _Jim walked into Molly's office, with a complete speech prepared on how to break up with her._

" _There you are!" an awfully cheerful Molly said._

" _Oh God, are you gonna love me!" she said, as she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her desk and towards her window._

 _Jim was surprised with her enthusiasm. She went to her bag pulled out a very neatly packed present with a velvety navy paper and a sliver bow._

" _This is for you." She told him as gave him the present._

" _For me? Why? What's the occasion?" He asked taking it._

" _Oh it's nothing just to, you know, do something nice for you."_

 _As he opened the present, he briefly looked at her. She had the look of utter happiness on her face. And as he tore the paper carefully, he thought that this box could only be this large for only one thing. And has the opened the box, he was dumbfounded, for the very first time in his life._

 _The classic 80s Polaroid._

 _He was shocked. Genuinely shocked. That camera model was exactly like the one he owned. He couldn't believe it. He had tried so, so hard to find it. And she, this small, mousy, girl had managed to buy it. God, it must've costed her fortune._

" _How, how the hell did you find it?" He asked, still in awe of it._

" _Oh, it was nothing you know, just pulled a couple of strings, helped Sherlock a little more than usual and spilled it out from him." She said. "Do you like it? I mean, did I have the right model, its real right? I mean the guy at the shop was very weird and I thought he was making fool out of me, I was of getting cheated, and giving you the wrong thing, you know-"_

 _She never got to finish her sentence because immediately his lips were on hers, kissing her with such immense passion, neither of them had experienced before. Slowly, he withdrew himself from her. All thoughts of breaking up with her vanished from his mind, now thinking that, it probably wouldn't hurt re-playing Jim from IT, for a little longer._

'' _Thank you. Thank you so much, Molly from Pathology. This is by far the best gift anyone has ever given to me. Ever." And he meant it._

" _Well, you're welcome." She said, blushing._

" _Now then, shall we try it out?" He said holding it close to his face, so that he can click a picture of her._

" _No. No, no, no, no! Jim! I look stupid!" she said trying to cover her face so he wouldn't click her photos._

" _No you don't! You're gorgeous!" he said. "What? Come on, it's my present. Let me do what I want with it!"_

" _Okay, fine! But just a couple, all right?" Molly said, finally, giving in._

 _And then, the two hours, in which Molly was suppose to cry and Jim was suppose to pretend to be hurt, were spent in clicking photos of him and her and theirs._

Now, as he looked at that old, tarnished shoe box, with pictures of that cat, that old man and that pole, now also included all those pictures of them.

 _No. Not of them. But of Jim from IT and Molly from Pathology._ He thought bitterly.

He wondered if she had kept pictures of them. He had kept pictures of her. In his wallet, in his office, in his bedroom, in every pocket of every suit jacket he owned. How could he not?

He had given her something special in return too. He had sent her a pendant. A real, anatomical heart. Anonymously. On Christmas. That Christmas on which Sherlock had, _humiliated_ her, so so much, in front of her friends.

He thought, that maybe, just maybe she might have been cheered up that night. He wished he could see if she wore it.

He wished he'd done a lot of things differently.

Sebastian Moran watched his boss drink himself to death. Third time this month. God, he hated to see this ruthless man, so pathetic.

"Do you need anything Moran?" Jim asked bitterly.

"No, boss." He said.

"Then get out" he said, not bothering to take his eyes away from that box.

Sebastian gave a light chuckle and turned to the door. As he stepped out of the room closing the door behind him. He briefly looked at the heartbroken man again, and said,

"Happy Birthday, boss"


End file.
